lovely lies

it was my fault

for ever believing your


but man,

were they beautiful.


i discovered

i wasn’t sculpted

nor molded for you.

i tried to contort myself into

the shape of your laugh

and love

and beauty but i found myself

unable to reach for it all.

it was not your fault

nor was it mine.

i catch myself thinking of a million ways it all could of worked out,

if only i could–

if only i was–

but i could not and

i was not

and that’s okay.


once i realized i couldn’t be

you or you

or you or you,

i was left with me,

a type of lonely i wasn’t acquainted with,

a type of alone i had to learn to love.

i despised it at first,

my jealous eyes scavaged the sea

for something i could replicate

in order to feel whole.

but each time i sent the line out,

i reeled it back to find my hands empty.


that is what i felt,

when i had to be by myself.

but soon,

almost painfully,

i accepted my own solitude,

and soon,

not so painfully,

i embraced who i found.